


You'll Come of Age with Our Young Nation

by janaitheawesome



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, eliza is a teacher, i'm out of tag ideas, idk where exactly this will go, let's do this, philip becomes a hamilton, philip gets adopted, philip's dad sucks (and isn't actually based on a historical figure), tags are scary, the hamiltons become a foster family, this will maybe have a happy ending, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:51:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janaitheawesome/pseuds/janaitheawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip thought that his life would never get any better. And then he got adopted by the Hamilton family (summaries are hard).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAwkwardUnicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardUnicorn/gifts), [my other friend people who told me to post this](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+other+friend+people+who+told+me+to+post+this).



Philip wakes up knowing today will be one of those days. One of those days where you can just feel it in your bones, it's going to be a bad day. And it doesn't help that today was the day his mother died. His father celebrates the anniversary by going out and drinking all night. This year is no different.  
Father should be home by now, he thinks apprehensively. The 15 year old gets out of bed slowly, quietly, trying not to wake his father if he is still sleeping.  
He could still be passed out in some bar. He allows himself a small smile. That’s a nice thought.  
Philip showers quickly and runs to his room to get dressed when he hears the front door open and slam closed again. Father is stomping around the small master bedroom. It might've been called a master bedroom but it was only slightly bigger than his own. Philip throws on his clothes and checks his backpack to make sure he has everything for school when his bedroom door abruptly bangs open.  
The boy is knocked hard to the floor as his father screams “Didn’t I tell you to get the laundry done before I got home, dumbass!?”  
Philip stays quiet. He knows better than to answer his father when the man is like this. Nothing good ever comes from it. It doesn’t matter that he did do the laundry, what matters is that Father didn’t see what he needed the first time he glanced in his drawer. Philip wants to rub his burning knee where he got a rug burn when he fell but instead he simply zones out and stares at Father as he yells. He’ll leave again soon, and then he can get to school.  
A few minutes later, Father leaves and Philip rushes out of the house, trying to make up lost time for the 20 minute walk to school.

 

It is a nice day outside. The sun is shining warmly in the classroom. The melodic chirps of birds are sweet and incessant. Everything has brighter look to it, grass, trees, flowers. It makes the viewer long to be outside. But the sight is not what is distracting Philip. It's the thought that his father might be home early, ready to yell at him some more for one of his made up stupid reasons. He begins to mentally list the order of what chores he should do before his father gets home, if he’s not there already. Dishes, laundry-no laundry first, then starting dinner-  
“Philip!”  
Philip jumps when his name is called. Dammit. Of course Mrs. Hamilton calls on him when he’s zoned out. He should be used to teachers doing that by now, but for whatever reason, he isn’t. Though, in his defense, this is the last class of the day. Most kids are pretty out of it at this point in the day.  
“Y-yes, ma’am?” he stutters. Dammit, he chides himself, Father told you to stop doing that.  
Mrs. Hamilton looks at him strangely. “Are you going to answer the question?”  
Philip ducks his head. Question? What question? “I didn’t hear the question, ma’am,” he admits.  
The teacher looks at Philip for another moment before calling on another student whose hand is raised.

 

By the time the bell rings at the end of class, and the school day, Philip is ready to pounce out of his desk and sprint home. Maybe Father won’t be home and he’ll actually be able to get his chores out of the way quickly so he can get his homework done at a reasonable time.  
Except Mrs. Hamilton calls out for him. “Philip? Can you come here and talk to me for a moment, please?”  
The other kids are looking at him like he’s in trouble when he silently nods his head, watching his ideal afternoon crumble before him.  
So much for getting home quickly, he thinks.  
Philip waits for the rest of the class to leave before getting up and walking to Mrs. Hamilton’s desk.  
“Philip, are you okay? You were pretty quiet and out of it today,” she asks, sounding worried.  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Philip knows she doesn’t actually care. He nearly scoffs. No one does.  
“Your expression during class reminds me of the way my husband looks when he’s thinking about his mother.”  
The boy flinches. He wasn’t expecting such a spot-on guess.  
“Is that what’s wrong?” Mrs. Hamilton asks.  
Philip wishes she’d leave the whole thing alone. This isn’t her business. Why’s she even asking when we both know she doesn’t care.  
“I’m fine,” Philip answers angrily. “It’s not your business. You have no reason to care. Just leave it alone!” Philip closes his mouth quickly. He said that too angrily. He doesn’t want to end up getting detention and have to stay even later than he has. He takes a deep breath. Hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I need to get home.”  
Mrs. Hamilton looks at him sadly. “I apologize. Would you like a ride home?”  
Philip tenses. “No thanks, I’m okay,” he says as he inches towards the classroom door. “Bye, Mrs. Hamilton!” He sprints out of the door before she can reply and runs all the way home. Well that sucked, but it could’ve been worse, he thinks as he walks to the door of his father’s tiny house.  
Then his day got quite a lot worse.


	2. Two

For the next few weeks, Father has to approve of what Philip is wearing before he can leave for school. Instead of the typical “See you later” or “Have a good day” he is bid goodbye with the phrases “Arms can’t be out, back must be completely covered,” and “Always have a jacket.” And he can’t forget the ever so loving, “If anyone sees…” Philip doesn’t have to ask him to finish or guess what he is implying. He is currently sporting what it means, in every place that is black and blue and aching.

The clothing check is annoying. First of all, it’s September. It’s still hot during the day. By the time Philip gets to school, he’s drenched in sweat and has to deal with the sticky feeling for the rest of day. Second, it’s not as though this has never happened before. I know what I’m doing, Philip thinks sourly as his father checks his clothing yet again. I’m not an idiot, no matter what you think. Through all of this, school goes on. Mrs. Hamilton keeps watching him closely, as though he’s going to fall apart or something. Why she finds me so special, I’ll never know.

Regardless of Mrs. Hamilton’s constant worrying (it had gotten to the point that every day after her class she would ask if everything was okay. Despite the many things he might’ve wanted to say, the answer was always “Yes.”), things are pretty good for a while once the bruises fade. Philip is able to pretend that his life is normal for a couple weeks. He can try to be happy (he’s not sure about what though).

But he should’ve known better than to get used to that.

It’s a fairly normal Friday morning when Philip walks into school late. His father’s clothing check ran late and when Philip pointed out that he was going to be late, Father went into a rant about not talking back to him and telling him what to do. He swings by the attendance office to grab a tardy slip before trudging to his first period. As he walks down the hall, Philip hears yelling.

“What’s the matter, freak?” someone shouts before there is a bang sound. Philip recognizes the sound faster than he should. Someone just got slammed against a locker. “You don’t like that?”

“Just leave me alone!” another voice says. A higher voice.

A girl’s voice.

The bully laughs and repeats mockingly, “Just leave me alone!” They laugh again. “Why should I, freak? It’s not like anyone cares enough about a fag like you to stop me. And no one would believe you if you tried to get me in trouble,” the bully snorts. “Like you would even try, faggot.”

This is gonna get ugly, he realizes. Philip looks back in the direction of his first period. He takes a deep breath as he steps into view of the two students. “Leave the her alone, dude!” Woah, that was louder than I meant for it to be.

The bully, George Eacker (of course, of course), glares at him. “What are you gonna do if I don’t, pipsqueak?”

Philip glances at the victim and his heart skips a beat. Oh my gosh, it’s Theodosia Burr! His mind races and for half a second Philip considers hightailing it out of there. Instead he steps in front of her and raises her his fists, the entire time repeating to himself, Don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy.

No, Philip wasn’t very strong, but he’s used to getting beat up. At least this time, it’d be for a good cause. Or the best cause. His face heats up and not because of his layers. Shut up! he scolds himself.

“What are you doing?” Theodosia asks Philip, somewhat indignantly, reminding Philip that he was standing in front of The Theodosia Burr. “I can take care of myself.”

Before Philip can answer, a classroom door opens. “What is going on here?”

Of course. Of course one of the few teachers who hates my guts is the one who finally hears all this. Philip fists tighten, the urge to hit something grows.

Eacker answers first. “Mr. Seabury! These little freaks came looking for a fight! They tried to attack me! I was just going to the bathroom, sir, I swear!” The behemoth somehow managed to go, very quickly, from looking like he was going to kill someone to like he was going to cry.

Regardless of Theodosia shouting “Bullshit!” and Philip’s “That’s not even close to what happened!”, Seabury fixes them both with a deadly glare.

“You both have detention after school today. Mrs. Hamilton’s room. Now all of you get to class.” No one moves. “Now, before I add one an extra one for language.” Eacker stands by Seabury’s side and mouths “faggot,” before turning around to go to the bathrooms.

Theodosia looks like she’s about to scream and storms off before Philip can say anything to her. Seabury is still glaring at him, so Philip sulks his way to class.

******

The advantage of your last period being the detention classroom, you don’t have to rush to pack up or go anywhere. When the bell rings, Philip simply gives Mrs. Hamilton his detention slip, goes back to his desk, puts in his headphones, and works on finishing the assignment she gave out during class.

A few minutes later, the door opens. Theodosia Burr walks in. Philip feels the temperature of the room increase a few degrees as she hands her small pink slip to Mrs. Hamilton, and drops herself in a desk near the door. The teacher checks her email and then looks at the two students. “Well it seems that somehow, you two are the only ones who have detention today. You have an hour in here. I’m going to get some coffee real quick. You can do homework, or play on your phones, or basically anything else that is allowed during the school day. Just look like you’re sad and reflecting on your actions if someone important walks in.”

Philip smiles as she leaves the room for a much needed energy boost, and Theodosia turns to look at him. “I always heard she was a really difficult teacher,” Theodosia says.

Philip shrugs. Act cool, man. “She’s not too bad. If you show her you’re a good student, you can basically do what you want. When everyone finishes their classwork, she lets us goof off, and sometimes goofs off with us.”

Theodosia laughs. “I’m Theodosia, by the way. Call me Theo.”

I know. “I’m Philip. Um, I’m sorry if I came off like I didn’t think you could protect yourself. It’s just that a face as beautiful as yours shouldn’t get hit.” Philip pauses, realizing what he just said. Shit. “Um, I-I just mean you’re really pretty, I’m not trying to hit on you, I swear, I just…I’m just gonna shut up now.” Philip stops short of banging his head on his desk as his face burns. Great job, idiot. That was so cool.

Theo laughs at Philip’s mess of an apology. “It’s alright. I’m glad you stepped in. He probably would’ve hurt me pretty bad.” She slightly lowers her head. “Because, apparently, the way that I dress affects George Eacker, and I have to meet his standard of “girly” in order to coexist in his stupid little universe.” Theo mutters the last part, but Philip hears her.

“He was gonna beat you up because of the way you dress?”

She looks up, a little shocked that Philip heard her but answers, “Yeah. He thinks that if I wear jeans and t-shirts and other things that apparently count as “boy clothes”, I must not be straight, so he feels the need to tell me so the only he knows how.” Theo mimes being punched in the jaw.

“That’s ignorant. Clothes don’t determine sexuality. And regardless of your sexuality, he doesn’t have the right to put his hands on you,” Philip says angrily.

“You say that like it’d be common sense for someone like him.”

“It should be!”

“It isn’t.” Philip’s hands close into fists on his desk.

“He’s stupid.” Theo hangs her head down and silently laughs. It is the only insult his mind can think of right now (it’s currently an angry, Theodosia filled, muddled mess). Her dark brown curly hair falls in her face and Philip can’t help wondering how soft it is.

“Yes,” she finally says, “yes he is.”

Philip smiles. He’s about to suggest that they make it clear to the bully kid, but Mrs. Hamilton walks into the room, so both students stay quiet.

******

If it were any other day, Philip would’ve been out of the classroom the second the words left Mrs. Hamilton’s mouth. But it isn’t. Theodosia Burr is in detention with him. When the hour is over, Philip is staring at Theo’s curly hair wondering what shampoo she uses, if she ever cuts it, and if she would ever let him touch it, so Mrs. Hamilton has to verbally inform him the hour is over. Philip quickly sweeps all of his books and papers into his backpack and Mrs. Hamilton asks her routine question (“Is everything alright?” “Yes.”), jogs over to his girl-Theo. To Theo. Mrs. Hamilton waves to Philip and Theo, and the two walk out of school together.

“Hey,” Theo says. “Gimme your phone.”

Philip doesn’t think twice about handing his phone over.

When Theo gives it back, Philip sees she put her number in it. “Text me, okay? You seem cool,” she says. She stands there for a few seconds as if waiting for him to say something. Philip tries to but he’s still giddy from the fact that Theodosia-Theo-Burr wants to talk to him so all he can manage is a nod. She shrugs then turns and runs home.

Yes, you idiot. You did something right. Philip begins his walk home, thinking about what an interesting day it’s been. And Theo. When he gets to the house, he sees his father’s car in front of the house and any elation he has whooshes out of him like a popped balloon. Philip is supposed to have dinner ready before Father gets home. Maybe he won’t have noticed I wasn’t home. He takes a deep breath.

Just as Philip quietly closes the front door, someone clears their throat. Shit.

“Where have you been, son?” Father asks in a dangerous tone.

Philip flinches. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I-I got d-detention today. That’s where I was,” he says quietly, not looking Father in the eye.

Father stands. “What did I tell you to have done by the time I got home?”

“D-dinner.” Stop stuttering.

“What isn’t done?”

“Dinner.”

Father smacks him in the face. “Why can’t you do anything right?!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Philip stares at the floor.

Father pushes him to the ground. Philip curls up as the man hits and kicks and screams. He knows better than to cry out when his father is like this. Crying only makes it worse. As he endures blow after blow, only one thought stays in his head as his eyes burn with repressed tears.

Please.

Stop.

I just want it to stop.

******

When Father finally leaves him alone, Philip slowly stands and makes his way to his room. As he walks past the bathroom, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. I can’t hide all of this, Philip thinks. Father says I’ll be in worse trouble if people find out. That he’ll let them take me and then make sure no one else will want me. That they’ll just throw me on the streets. Philip shuffles to his room as fast as he can. I have to get out of here so Father can’t hurt me when people find out. He shoves a few things in his backpack: a picture of Mother, a jacket, a few granola bars; and rushes out the front door, closing it as quietly as he can.

And Philip just walks.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first fic, so constructive criticism is much appreciated. Mean criticism will make me sad, though, so please don't do that :)


End file.
